For Them
by Puffy Poo
Summary: Coming home late from an Auror assignment, Ron faces a conversation he hadn't expected - at least, not for a few years. Light one-shot.


Ron stretched and shrugged off his jacket. Another long night; another long shift watching the Muggle bar that Rodolphus Lestrange was suspected to be living over. The Aurors had been taking turns watching for over a month now, hoping to catch sight of him, but the last of the original Death Eaters to have eluded capture was turning out to be, well… Elusive.

Most of the time, Ron wished Lestrange would just turn himself in. He was sick of spending his nighttime hours sitting in that dirty alleyway, under an invisibility cloak that provided very little shelter and no warmth. It was cold, miserable, _long_ work, and he didn't appreciate having to spend so much of his free time away from his small family.

However, on occasion, he was rather glad of the excuse it gave Hermione to hover over him when he was home. Extra attention was always an upshot. Ron's lips turned up at the corners as he removed his scarf, remembering the adorable worried expression that had been on her face as she'd wrapped it around his neck.

"You'll be careful?" she'd asked, her hands knotted in the rough plaid material.

"Aren't I always?" he'd asked, jokingly, in reply, bending to kiss the top of her head.

Ron sat down and began pulling off his boots. Hermione had seemed unusually anxious about him, his health, his safety, for the past month or so. Ron couldn't blame her. She spent so much of her time alone at home these days. She had little else to do with her mind but imagine gruesome scenarios her absent husband might be facing. _Well_, Ron reflected, _she wasn't entirely alone_. Rose had been with her – Rose was always with her – but Rose, who had just taken her first uncertain but unassisted steps a few weeks ago, could hardly know how to assuage her mother's fears with her toddler's vocabulary.

His shoes off, Ron leaned back into the cushions and sighed. It was awfully comfortable there on the couch; he wasn't looking forward to the trek up the stairs to bed. _Anyway, it's almost five in the morning, _he reasoned. _I'd probably wake up Hermione if I went to bed now_. _Not that she'd complain,_ Ron thought, ruefully. She often got up at this beastly hour of the day.

Deciding he'd regret it more in the morning (just a few short hours away) if he fell asleep sitting where he was than if he made the exertion, he hauled himself to his feet and shuffled to the stairs.

By the time he reached his room, Ron felt more asleep than awake. He toppled onto the bed and leisurely began to nestle his way down into the covers. Finally, satisfied with his position, he extended a long arm to drape over his wife.

All it met with was air.

Ron turned his head to look at the empty space Hermione usually occupied. _That's odd_. If she was up, why hadn't she greeted him when he'd arrived home? Craning his neck, Ron checked to see if she was in the bathroom – but no. The door was open; the light was off. Hermione wasn't in there. Beginning to feel a mixture of worry and grumpiness at her absence, Ron slid backwards off the bed with a grunt and set off to find her.

It didn't take long. It is impossible to play a lengthy game of hide and seek in a house with four rooms total. She was standing next to Rose's crib in the nursery, looking down at her and swaying slightly from side to side, her arms wrapped around her shoulders, almost as if rocking a child to sleep.

She jumped when Ron walked in, but, turning, met him with a tired smile and an explanation.

"I couldn't sleep. The old nightmare again."

Ron grimaced, immediately understanding.

"Bellatrix?"

Hermione nodded, then bit her lip. Her eyes filled with tears; Ron moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. After a moment she said, softly, "She was after Rose in this dream. And I couldn't do anything. I was helpless…" She trailed off.

Ron looked down at the cherubic carrot-top in the crib.

"And where was I?"

Hermione sniffled and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't remember, but you couldn't do anything, either."

Ron was silent for a moment, thinking, but before he could speak, Hermione continued.

"I kept telling her to leave Rose alone, that I was the one she wanted, but she wouldn't listen, and Rosie was crying and screaming, and…"

Hermione turned and buried her face in Ron's shoulder.

"It was terrible!" she whispered. "Worse than the dreams where she just tortures me."

Pulling her close, Ron rested his chin on her head and, resisting the temptation to point out the similarities between her dream and what had once been his reality, he stared at their daughter's tiny form. He cringed at the very idea of anything like that happening to her. Or happening again to her mother. He ran a hand through Hermione's tangled hair and said his oft-repeated line.

"She's dead, Hermione. She's gone. She can't hurt us anymore. Not you or Rose, not anyone."

Hermione sighed and leaned back to look into his eyes.

"But Rodolphus is out there…and you're out there after him. What if he were to decide he wanted revenge against your family? You're an Auror. There are plenty of criminals out there that probably wouldn't mind having you out of their way. What if Crabbe's family decided it was our fault he died and came after you? Or came both of us? What would happen to the baby? To Rosie? Left to grow up like Harry did with an Aunt and Uncle?"

Ron grinned.

"I don't think that'd be as bad for Rose as is was for Harry. Well… unless she was given to Percy and Audrey." He made a face. "That might be worse."

Hermione laughed and slapped his chest.

"I'm serious!" she protested.

"So am I! Dead serious. Rosie's future is at stake! I mean, really, can you imagine being raised by _Percy_?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"I'd rather raise them myself, obviously, but if anything happened to us, I wouldn't want my children raised by Percy." The smile disappeared. "Really, Ron. I worry about you. If anything happened to you…I don't know what I'd do. I don't like the thought of you off fighting dark wizards… " She gave him a watery smile. "Without me there to save your skin, anyway."

Ron pulled her close again, then, his mind suddenly catching on something she had said, pushed her away again, eyebrows raised.

"_Them_? Children, plural? As in… More than one?"

Hermione blushed. "I was going to tell you last night, but…"

Ron's stomach jumped. "You… are you –?" He swallowed.

Hermione, staring at the floor, nodded, suddenly and irrationally shy.

"You're… expecting?"

Hermione looked up at him through her eyelashes, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, Ron, I'm expecting." She paused for a moment and then grinned. "So, you see, I really would appreciate it if you didn't die anytime soon."

"A _baby_?" Ron asked excitedly. Hermione made a shushing noise and gestured at the crib. Ron nodded and hurriedly lowered his voice.

"Boy or girl?"

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "Ron, you know we won't find out for awhile yet."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, staring off into space. He was going to be a father again! _Maybe this time it will be a little boy_. His mind flashed forward and he imagined himself teaching a little tyke with Hermione's hair and his eyes how to ride and broom, how to play chess. His imagination flashed forward again. He saw himself helping his son navigate the awkward realm of first dates and fancies, girls and grades. He saw his son, now a handsome young man, standing in a shining pavilion with a girl in white, while he watched, glowing with pride…

Then he saw, with a shiver of dread, his son's life without a father.

Hermione was right. He didn't want his children being raised by anyone else. Speaking as if in a daze, he muttered, "Well, I suppose George has been asking for help with the shop." Hermione looked up as he continued, "I guess I could work with him. Wouldn't be as exciting as Auror-work, but…"

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and dragged his head down close to hers.

"You'd do that for me, Ron? For them?" she asked breathlessly. Ron nodded. Smiling and standing on tip-toe, she closed the distance between them.

When they broke apart, the grey light of dawn was just beginning to lighten the horizon outside the nursery window, and Rose had started to stir. Ron wobbled on his feet, feeling a bit lightheaded.

Hermione gasped. "Oh, Ron, I forgot! You've been awake since yesterday morning, haven't you! You ought to get to bed!"

She gave him a small shove toward their bedroom. Ron staggered to the door, then paused and turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

"Want to come with? You need the sleep for two now, you know."

Hermione smiled and shook her head as a soft cry came from the crib.

"Yes, but I've got to take care of this one, too. Go, sleep!"

When Hermione passed their bedroom door five minutes later, taking Rose downstairs to feed her, she looked in and saw Ron, already fast asleep on top of the covers, snoring, a smile lingering on his face.

**A/N: I was going through some of my old Harry Potter fanfics that I'd published on Mugglenet, and I thought I'd bring a few over here for the crowd to see. I hope you enjoyed it!**


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